


New Rules

by Bazzys



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Awkward First Times, Blushing, Couch Sex, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Married Couple, Multi, Relationship Problems, Therapist!Yeosang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-11-22 07:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazzys/pseuds/Bazzys
Summary: Yunho and Mingi have couple problems, so they pay Yeosang's office a visit or two (give or take) to sort it all out.Let's just say Yeosang is good at what he does.





	New Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
_"Yunho and Mingi have been a married couple for five years now and are having a few complications, so they start to see a couple therapist named Kang Yeosang. After their seventh visit, things start to escalate._
> 
> _Basically, Yeosang guides them through their first time together. It's nearly a scene straight out of a porno."_

“When was the last time the two of you had intercourse?”

The question drains the defensive energy from the room completely. A spoon would be sharp enough to cut the tension in the air, a heavy silence locking all three of them into place, Yunho and Mingi frozen in their seats while Yeosang glances between them over his desk. Neither of them speak, instead opting to fidget with their own clothes to avoid looking at each other. Mingi’s mouth opens and closes like his jaw was on springs, but with his tongue paralysed there’s no sound coming out. Yunho scratches his neck, looking at the construction workers milling about on the street a few floors below.

Yeosang leans forward to rest his clasped hands onto the desk, the creak of leather loud in the muted atmosphere. 

“Well?” he probes.

“It’s-uh, we-” Mingi stutters hastily.

Yunho clears his throat and turns to Yeosang, but quickly averts his eyes under Yeosang’s intense stare. 

“We haven’t,” he mumbles, “you know… yet.”

Yunho gestures nervously, voice brittle. Yeosang regards them both for a few more heartbeats, catching how Mingi swallows hard and the way Yunho’s leg is shaking enough for the coffee in Yeosang’s cup to ripple. 

Mingi awaits Yeosang’s reaction with a bitter taste. He’s probably gonna laugh. They’ve been married for half decade and they still lock the door when showering? Atrocious. Changing clothes in the bathroom? Unheard of. Sleeping in two single beds _almost_ pushed together? Witty.

“Well, shit, no wonder you’re tumultuous,” Yeosang states matter-of-factly.

Mingi and Yunho’s heads snap to look at each other and then at Yeosang. Their eyes are wide as they bore into their counselor as he rummages through one of his drawers. He pulls out a file.

“Six meetings and you didn’t mention this once,” Yeosang says, and the words hit Yunho’s conscience like a needle.

“I-uh, we didn’t think it was of… significance,” he says, hiding his embarrassment behind formalities.

“And that’s what got you here,” Yeosang muses, a small smile playing on his lips. He opens the file and hands them each a sheet. “A healthy sex life is one of three key components in a successful relationship. Without embracing it, it will eventually become a wedge between you instead. Yes, trust and communication is very important, but you can’t cross a lake with just a boat; you need oars too.”

Mingi stares at the triangle on the paper, not really seeing any of it. His mind is blank except for a steady buzz of uneasiness, but he won’t let that show on his face. 

“Read through this, make yourself familiar with your own comfort zones, and for God’s sake,” Yeosang says, holding the door open for them a they scramble out, “talk to each other. Tell how you feel, what’s good and what’s not, and we’ll discuss this further same time next week. Alright?” he smiles, closing the door behind them. 

A week flies by, Yeosang drowning in appointments and paperwork, spending more evenings in his study until well past midnight than he’d prefer. He sits back after closing the last file for the day. A glance at his wristwatch says it’s almost 1AM, and he rubs his eyes, too tired to move. His eyes wander over the table in front of him, files and papers and other people’s problems laid out in front of him. One particular name scribbled onto the front catches his eye. Their next appointment is tomorrow. 

Yeosang is lost in thought for a while, the end of his pen being abused unawaringly by teeth. Their problems don’t lie in shoes not lined up properly or dirty dishes in the sink, it’s another type of frustration, one they can’t get rid of by bickering. They came to him for help. And he intends to do just that.

He gets up then, resolution in his step as he exits the room and heads down the hall. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kang,” Yunho greets while shrugging off his coat upon entering Yeosang’s office. 

Yeosang closes the file he’d been reading, placing it back into the stack on his desk. Mingi enters after, offering a meek ‘hello’ as usual. Yeosang welcomes them both and invites them to sit. Yeosang studies their faces, noticing immediately that something’s off. 

“You didn’t go through with it,” he states rather than asks. 

His tone of voice stirs something in them, and they both protest loudly, talking over each other until it becomes unintelligible. Yeosang quiets them with a raised hand. They pipe down at once. 

“Why’s that?” he asks gently, sitting straighter in his chair, “Mingi first.”

Mingi startles at the addressation. He looks at Yunho, who takes his hand in comfort. “Mr. Kang,” he begins, “we tried, we really did! We just,” he licks his lips while collecting himself, “we don’t know how to, you know...”

“Remember how I said there were three key components?” He waits until they both nod. “Trust and communication doesn’t make the voyage possible alone, you need a healthy sex life as well, and in return, you can’t have a healthy sex life without trusting each other and communicating, more than ever for the duration of the intercourse itself.” 

Yeosang pauses while the two of them lets the words sink in, contemplating his next words. “You’re my last appointment for today. I have a plan of action in mind, but that demands a different scenery, of sorts. Would you be willing to change locations for this meeting?” The offer hangs in the air for a few seconds. “Free of charge of course. I just want to help you two out,” he adds less formally, observing the way they taste the proposal. 

Eventually Yunho nods. “Yeah, I think that’d be fine, don’t you think?” 

Mingi nods too. Yeosang smiles reassuringly at them. 

“Then let’s be on our way. Shall we?” Yeosang gets his coat from it’s hanger and gestures the two out first. 

They both get into the backseat of Yeosang’s car, staring silently at the passing scenery through separate windows, and soon find themselves on familiar roads. 

“Mr. Kang, where are we headed?” Mingi asks once they pass a specific supermarket.

“To the heart of the problem,” Yeosang chirps, “your house.”

Mingi and Yunho exchange looks in the backseat. Yeosang pulls into their driveway, and a glance in the rear view mirror shows their hands are clasped tight. He can see they’re embarrassed, so he clears his throat to change the mood.

“Well then, who’s showing me the ropes?” he asks, eyes darting from one to the other. Neither of them volunteers. “Mingi?” he suggests, smiling reassuringly through the mirror. 

Mingi’s lax jaw snaps shut as he scrambles to open the door to catch up with Yeosang who’s already walking towards the house. He forgets about the seatbelt until it jolts him back, and hastily removes it before jogging up to where Yeosang is waiting patiently. Mingi unlocks the door with shaky hands, letting Yeosang in first as he throws one last worried glance to the car where Yunho is left by himself.

Yeosang lays his coat over the armrest of a chair in the entrance hall, studying the interior closely. Mingi is left padding a few feet behind, uneasy about how quiet his counselor is being. Yeosang wanders on, through the kitchen and to the living room. He spends a few moments strictly looking, at everything and nothing in particular. Moving to the hall, he peeks into the bathroom, but doesn’t enter. 

Mingi’s nerves are skyrocketing for some unknown reason seeing Mr. Kang’s hands clasped behind his back as he leisurely makes his round through their home. He halts at the open bedroom door, and glances back at Mingi with unreadable eyes.

“May I?” he asks, gesturing into the room with one hand. 

Mingi nods and swallows as he disappears through the doorframe. He takes a deep breath before following after. Yeosang is staring at their beds, or rather, the tiny four-inch gap between them. He turns to Mingi, who startles. “Go get Yunho, we’ll have a chat in the living room,” he says, and Mingi is happy to get a breath of fresh air.

As soon as they sit on the couch, Yeosang gestures for them to stand back up. “Problem one,” he says, face blank, “you can’t shy away from physical contact like this,” he explains, silencing Mingi with his hand in the middle of his protest, “and yes, I can tell from how the pillows are stacked in the middle.”

Yeosang moves the pillows and places Mingi and Yunho hip to hip, thigh to thigh on the cushions. 

“Secondly,” he holds out his other hand palm up, a key displayed in it, “I’ll be taking this from the bathroom. No more private times getting off in the shower.” Yeosang inwardly chuckles as Mingi clamps his mouth shut on his own this time, fresh embarrassment creeping up his neck at being called out so freely.

“And last, but not least, let’s address the elephant in the room,” Yeosang points back to the bedroom down the hall, “you’re married, not roommates.” 

He studies them both as they avoid eye-contact for all it’s worth. Their discomfort regarding the bed situation is radiating off of them in heavy waves, their never-ending embarrassment coming back with a whole new shade of shame colouring their entire ears instead of just the tips like usually.

“Do you have any sort of date nights?” Yeosang asks to prevent anyone from passing out at the obvious rush of blood to the head. “Do you go out? Cook together? I saw a bathtub in the bathroom, have both of you ever been in it at the same time?”

They think for a bit, Yunho shaking his head slightly. 

“We sometimes watch movies together,” Mingi perks up.

“Together? How together?” 

Mingi looks at Yunho for help. “Like, we put on a movie,” he starts when there is none offered, “and we watch it. Together,” he finishes, voice fading out as uncertainty sets in.

Yeosang regards them in silence once more. Then he gets up and moves the table and the pillows out of the way. He sits back down, facing them anew and crossing his legs.

“Show me.”

Yunho opens and closes his mouth a few times, but doesn’t protest. They shuffle around a bit, getting comfortable on each their end, like they usually would, and they stay there.

“That’s it?” Yeosang asks carefully.

Yunho nods. Yeosang sighs.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, “Yunho get up. Mingi lie down on your back, head propped up against the armrest.”

They comply wordlessly, but clearly confused as Yeosang makes his way over to the couch. He bends Mingi’s right leg, the one closest to the backrest, to stay propped up, telling him to lift the arm on the same side. He steers Yunho back down, guiding him to lie down as well, on top of Mingi. His head is now buried into Mingi’s clavicle, arms slung around Mingi’s waist loosely. The arm Mingi was holding into the air lands in Yunho’s hair, awkwardly playing with the locks. 

Yeosang stands back admiring his work with a small content smile, then sits back down. “This,” he says, gesturing to their positions, “is how you watch a movie together. Don’t be afraid of touching each other.” 

Mingi’s hand, that had stilled while Yeosang was speaking, starts moving again. Yunho relaxes into the feeling, the fingers twisting in his hair calming him almost as much as listening to Mingi’s heartbeat. He buries his nose further into Mingi’s neck and sighs. 

“This is… nice,” Mingi admits, shoulders visibly untensing. “Your hair smells nice.”

“Thanks,” Yunho giggles and wraps his arms around Mingi tighter, as if figuring out he won’t actually break if he does. 

Mingi chuckles back, Yunho’s breath tickling his sensitive neck. Yeosang nods at the two, encouraged by the improvement. 

“Yunho, lift yourself up just a little,” he instructs, grabbing the hem of both their shirts. 

He lifts them, pulls them up as far as he can, and pushes Yunho back down despite his protest at the exposed skin. The complaints die down into a groan, though, when his naked stomach collides with Mingi’s. The breath is knocked out of Mingi in a wheeze, his hand tightening in Yunho’s hair involuntarily, making Yunho moan where his face is pressed into Mingi’s chest. Yeosang watches how Yunho’s hand finds Mingi’s hip, fingertips digging into the tan skin without trying to separate himself from Mingi’s warmth. 

“How does that feel?” Yeosang cuts in calmly.

“Warm,” Mingi swallows, breath heavy, “and close.”

Yeosang hums in approval. “Good,” he praises, “now I’d like for Yunho to kiss your neck.”

“What?!” Both of their heads shoot in his direction so fast Yeosang’s worried they’ll get whiplash. 

Yeosang just nods. “You heard me,” he says, “foreplay is essential when it comes to a successful intercourse. It’s what builds expectation and prepares your bodies for the actual act. It’s also a great way to get acquainted with one another physically. How long or short amount of time you want to spend on it is up to you, however.”

Yunho and Mingi just stare at him wide-eyed. But just as Yeosang is about to urge them on, Yunho dives down hesitantly, planting a butterfly peck onto the side of Mingi’s neck. Mingi squirms, again feeling ticklish, so Yunho presses down firmer, staying for a split second longer, gaining confidence for every kiss he leaves. Mingi melts into the couch, his toes curling when Yunho tries to suck on the skin lightly. A groan escapes Yunho when Mingi tugs at his hair again.

Mingi panicks, overwhelmed by the situation and tries to pull away, but with Yunho’s weight on top of him he doesn’t get further than sliding a few inches up the couch. He crumbles, a shudder going through him, and he hides his face in his hands when Yunho’s eyes go completely round. 

“Was that…” Yunho trails off, but Yeosang doesn’t need to hear the end to know Mingi’s body is responding.

“Mingi,” Yeosang voices to get his attention, Mingi peeking at him through a gap in his fingers, “do you trust Yunho?” 

Mingi nods wordlessly and without hesitation.

Yeosang smiles reassuringly. “Then why are you hiding?” 

“It’s embarrassing,” he mumbles reluctantly, “I-I don’t know.”

Yunho kisses his knuckles, gently prying his fingers away to look at his face. Yeosang feels a sort of pride seeing Yunho do his part so well after such a short time, accustoming to the new experiences flawlessly. 

“Mingi,” Yunho coos, making Mingi crack a smile. “My beautiful Mingi,” he continues, eyes shining as he’s looking upon his husband’s face, “let me see you properly.”

Mingi’s hands fall away, and he stares back at Yunho with a warmth challenging that of the sun itself. 

“Mingi, I love you,” Yunho whispers, “I love you so much and I’d never make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe in any way, I promise.” He hooks his pinky through Mingi’s and stares at him with sincerity, “I promise you, okay?”

Mingi nods resolutely. “O-okay,” he breathes. 

Yunho smiles back, happiness making his cheeks pop even more than before. Then his face turns serious again. “Can I touch you?” he asks softly, and Mingi chokes on his spit.

“He can’t just do that!” Mingi coughs in Yeosang’s direction.

“Do what?” 

“Go right from being all cute to… ask _that_,” he pouts.

Yeosang shrugs nonchalantly. “He just did.”

Mingi swallows and turns his attention back to Yunho. He’s looking at him expectantly, waiting for the answer to his question. Mingi wants to hide again, but catches himself before he has the chance to do so, and opts for resting his hands on Yunho’s sides, nodding weakly.

“It’s better to use words, Mingi, be vocal about it,” Yeosang announces.

Mingi sighs. “Yes,” he mumbles, “you can touch me.”

“Good, okay um,” Yunho nods, shifting awkwardly on top of Mingi to get a hand in position, casting a wary glance at Yeosang. “I, uh, I don’t know what to do next,” he blurts, ears turning red once more. 

“That’s alright,” Yeosang assures. “Press your palm against his erection like you would yourself,” he explains, Yunho shrinking at the thought. “Mingi, take his hand and guide it, let him know how you like it.”

Mingi’s face lights up, but he nods and breathes hard. Taking hold of Yunho’s hand in his, he drags Yunho’s palm over the racing heart in his chest and down his entire front, inching closer and closer to the waistband of his trousers, barely touching the edge when Yunho halts.

“Are you sure you’re fine with it? We don’t have to if you don’t feel like it,” Yunho rambles, his tongue tripping over the words, “I really don’t want to make you feel pressured or anything-”

“Yunho,” Mingi says firmly, effectively shutting Yunho up, “I want to. Please, just touch me,” he breathes out.

Yunho bites his tongue and lets Mingi move his hand further, eye-contact unwavering as his fingertips explore stretches of skin he’s ever only imagined. Mingi leads him past the line of his clothing, and then his palm is pressing against Mingi’s dick, which twitches at the contact, and Mingi sighs heavily at the stimulation. Yunho’s hand starts moving on its own, Mingi’s grip loosening as his head falls back against the armrest, either letting Yunho take control or gradually losing his own. 

Yunho exhales, rubbing his palm along Mingi’s length, sooner than he expected finding a familiar rhythm. It’s weird-no not weird, just… _peculiar_-to do it to someone else than himself, but it’s not entirely bad either. Then Mingi moans, raw from the back of his throat, and Yunho chooses to rephrase that statement: it’s not bad at all.

Mingi tenses under him, Yunho notices in his state of hyper-awareness, and then he’s being pulled down by the collar of his shirt. Soft, but firm lips crash against his own in a sort of kiss they’ve only seen in movies; one of passion and love and _want_. The adrenaline surging through Yunho’s limbs delays the realisation that their lips haven’t moved, but still it vandalises Yunho’s mind, leaving his self-control in shambles. It allows his courage to peak enough to dare separate his lips and deepen the kiss, utilising Mingi’s gasp as he applies pressure to his straining dick. 

His heart is pounding, and he’s sure Mingi can feel it, but he slips his tongue past both their lips until it brushes against Mingi’s, who shivers into the cushions. An equally relieved sigh escapes the both of them, and they relax into the slow pace, getting accustomed to each other’s slightly clumsy movements, silently figuring out just how this actually works.

“This is very good,” Yeosang comments from the side, sounding far away in Mingi’s clouded mind. “Mingi, you could touch Yunho as well, let your gut tell you where to go.”

Mingi thinks he’s too far gone to even think about denying anything Yeosang tells him to do at this point, and his suspicions are confirmed when his fingers have already managed to fumble the zipper of Yunho’s jeans open. He pushes them back, the underwear following the tight fabric, and Yunho moans into Mingi’s mouth at the cold air his now free dick is exposed to. Mingi doesn’t hesitate this time, as he wraps slender fingers around Yunho, feeling the weight in his hand. 

Yunho inhales sharply at the contact, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against Mingi’s. Their breaths are mingling in an invisible dance between them, one of anticipation and uncertainty, but also of a mutual agreement to just leap into the unknown.

Mingi moves his hand, slowly, and even though he knows what to do deep inside he wants to actually _see_ Yunho go through it, every step of the way. When he reaches the base, Yunho moans, and Mingi’s heart skips. Yunho’s eyes are closed, brows slightly furrowed, and Mingi moves back up, watching as Yunho’s features change as he squeezes a little at the head of his dick. The glide isn’t smooth, actually kinda dry, but neither of them makes a move to do anything about it, especially not when Yunho releases Mingi’s shirt from his iron hold to shove his hand down into Mingi’s trousers. 

Mingi’s hips buck up at the touch, arching into Yunho’s weight. Yunho’s eyes darken, Mingi notices before Yunho is back at his neck with a new burst of determination. He hisses when Yunho’s chilly fingers wrap around him at the same time as Yunho sucks hard at the skin under his ear, his own hand jolting involuntarily and causing Yunho’s entire body to jerk in response to the extra pressure. 

Neither of them even notice how Yeosang has left them until he’s back, dumping a bottle of lube on the couch by Mingi’s head. It startles him, and they connect eyes, Yeosang winking at him with a smile, urging him on wordlessly. Mingi releases Yunho, grabbing both the bottle and Yunho’s attention as the cap pops open with a loud click. 

“Let me,” Yunho offers eagerly, holding out his palm.

Mingi doesn’t hesitate squeezing a decent amount into the hand, staring into Yunho’s determined eyes with a mix of fear and excitement as Yunho warms it as best as he can.

“I wanna try something,” he says, Mingi nodding before he even finishes talking, just itching to be touched again, pre-come already leaking down the lenght of him and he’s positive he’s never felt this turned on before. 

Yunho reaches down between them, wrapping his hand around Mingi again, whose hips stutter into the tight grip, moaning at the now smooth glide. Yunho’s weight shifts, and suddenly there’s a whole new pressure against him, _all of him_, but before Yunho crumbles onto him he manages to get a good look at what is actually going on.

Yunho is jerking them both off.

_With one hand._

Mingi’s mind explodes and goes full radio silence as his body gains undisputed authority over his actions and limbs. All shame of self-consciousness is dumped off a cliff into the raging sea below without regret, he yanks Yunho’s face up from his neck by the hair and shoves his tongue into his mouth, licking and biting like a starved animal finally freed from its cage. He tries desperately to meet the rhythm of Yunho’s hand, although there really isn’t one to begin with, but Mingi still deems it too slow. He wraps his fingers around them too, helping Yunho, and himself, closer to that build up he knows is coming.

Yunho groans into Mingi’s mouth, his hold making it tighter, and he can feel Mingi’s dick drag against his own. The thought in its own, how utterly _filthy_ it looks, renders him more powerless than the actual sensation of it. He breaks the kiss, gasping for air at a particularly rough thrust, but Mingi doesn’t want to waste time. 

“I ngh-know we haven’t discussed this,” he pants against Yunho’s neck, careless about leaving marks in his path, and Yunho grunts in response, “but please, can I fuck you?” 

The very last of Yunho’s restraint vanishes out the fucking window at that. He grabs the discarded bottle of lube and drops it onto Mingi’s chest. Mingi shifts under him, nudges him to undress until Mingi maneuvers him onto his lap. 

They pause, Mingi dragging his hands over Yunho’s thighs. Yunho’s body casts a shadow over Mingi’s face, but he can still see the flushed colour of his cheeks and the plump lips and he marvels, can’t help it really, at the sight, pride swelling in his heart at the fact that _damn, I did that_. His lips pull into a smile and he leans down for another kiss.

“Are you sure you want this?” Mingi whispers against Yunho’s lips, suddenly unsure.

Yunho holds his face and forces him to look into his eyes. “Hubby, I love you,” he says, “but if you don’t hurry the fuck up I will put you on dish duty for the next month.”

Mingi chuckles, but he knows the threat is valid. Fumbling for the lube once again, he pops the cap open. But between the fear of dish duty and the barely contained craving for _more_, he forgets one thing: _he has no idea what to do_. He clears his throat.

“Hey, Mr. Kang?” 

Yunho tenses at the reminder they’re not alone.

“Yes, Mingi?” Yeosang replies, calm as ever, as if what he’s witnessing is nothing new.

“Um, so,” he begins and coughs into his elbow to hide his blush, “what’s next?”

Yeosang wills down his amusement at Mingi’s efforts to avoid his eye-contact. “You have to finger him open, stretch and relax the muscle before you penetrate him,” he explains. When Mingi’s eyes widen staring at his empty hand and the lube looking more lost than ever before, Yeosang continues: “Coat your index finger in lube, warm it up a bit and insert it into Yunho.”

Something seems to click in Mingi’s head as his mouth forms an ‘o’. He does as he’s told, spending his time tempering the lube between his fingers and diligently placing the bottle to the side. Yeosang can see Yunho getting impatient, his hand drifting to touch himself, but then Mingi reaches behind Yunho and he grips Mingi’s shirt instead.

“Ready?” Mingi mumbles, Yunho nodding.

Mingi’s finger circles Yunho’s hole and prods against it, testing the waters slowly. Yunho takes a sharp inhale, nails clawing at the fabric underneath them, anticipation boiling in the pit of his stomach. He tries to sit back, meet the finger, but Mingi won’t let him and he’s left squirming in his place. 

“Mingi, I fucking swear to God-” 

Yunho is cut off with a yelp when Mingi pushes inside, his finger slipping in easily and just keeps going, further in until he reaches the knuckle. Yunho whines, waiting for Mingi to move, to pull out and do it again, but Mingi stays still.

“Mingi,” Yeosang calls, Mingi peeking over Yunho’s shoulder, “try moving your fingers.”

“Oh, sorry,” he mutters sheepishly, embarrassed at his lack of experience.

“No, no, it’s alright,” Yunho says back through a clenched jaw.

Mingi finally moves, pulling out just a bit and going back in, and Yunho releases a breath he wasn’t aware of holding. He sits back against the gradually growing thrusts, and soon asks for another finger. Mingi complies, inserting his middle finger along with the first. He gains enough confidence to try wiggling the fingers inside of Yunho, accidentally brushing right over his prostate, and Yunho moans loudly into the room. 

He slaps a hand over his mouth in shock and stills, and a few seconds tick by spent staring at an equally surprised Mingi, who then angles his hand the same way again and thrusts in experimentally. Yunho shudders, another moan escaping him despite his efforts to contain it. Mingi’s breathing turns ragged, eyes almost black with hunger as he lubes up a third finger as well. 

Yunho moans again, the stretch so good he’ll probably come from thinking to much about it. Mingi takes his time, making sure Yunho is as relaxed as he can be, going at a less that satisfyingly slow pace (according to Yunho, whose continuously failed attempts at speeding it up making him whine in misery).

“Mingi,” he pants. When Mingi doesn’t answer, he bites at his bottom lip. “Mingi, please,” he cries, head resting on Mingi’s shoulder as he pulls his fingers out, and Yunho sighs.

They’re both out of breath without even having started, and as Mingi lubes up a second time, Yunho swallows looking at Mingi’s size. He has decent body proportions and considers himself on the bigger side of average, but seeing Mingi… gives ‘big’ a whole new definition. He gulps, thoughts starting to race through his head.

Yunho’s always been at peace with his sexuality, and he didn’t feel the need to hide it, and of course he’s thought about sex before. Honestly, who hasn’t? He’s had opportunities through the years, he knows he could’ve if he wanted to, but he just hasn’t trusted anybody enough to feel comfortable with that kind of intimacy. To be honest, Yunho is scared. Terrified, really, of what is to come. He’s not entirely sure how he’s going to react, if he’ll enjoy it or not, but he knows it’ll be alright regardless, as long as he has Mingi. And Mr. Kang, but that’s… a whole different story. What matters now is that Mingi is with him, and they’re doing this. 

Mingi lines up, pulling Yunho’s hips closer to him to position himself. He can feel the head of Mingi’s cock against him, and it sends his heart into another round of palpitations, pounding so hard his thoughts are deafened out entirely. He slings his arms around Mingi’s neck, taking notice of Mingi’s hold on the back of his thighs supporting his weight. 

There’s a look in Mingi’s eyes then, a flash of emotion through the cloud of lust, something resembling affection, or tenderness, or respect, just for the split second it takes for Mingi’s pupils to dilate, but it warms Yunho’s heart. Yunho smiles, the way Mingi always compared to a puppy, and he connects their lips in a kiss. 

And he lowers himself down onto Mingi’s dick. 

Mingi draws a sharp breath through his nose, his fingers digging into the meat of Yunho’s thighs, but Yunho doesn’t heed it any mind. He keeps going, inch by inch, feeling fuller for each one until the stretch makes him dizzy, and then, when he’s about to call for a break to adjust, his ass meets the hot skin of Mingi’s thighs. 

Mingi breaks the kiss, cursing under his breath profanities Yunho’s never heard roll off his tongue. He leans his forehead against Yunho’s, his mind swimming at the heat and the way Yunho’s ass squeezes him. He twitches and swallows Yunho’s gasp with his mouth, lips moving lazily against his own as they both take in the new impressions. 

“Can I move?” Mingi asks, voice raw.

“Please,” Yunho squeaks weakly.

Mingi slides a bit further down on the cushions, spreading his legs further for stabilisation, and rolls hips tryingly. The drag of Mingi’s dick inside Yunho is overwhelming, although short, and Yunho whimpers into his shoulder. Mingi thrusts again, this time lifting Yunho’s weight at the same time, and he wheezes. The way Yunho hugs him, nearly sucks him right back in, it drives him crazy, pushes him to go further, to chase that something he’s yearning to find. 

Yunho drops his weight onto Mingi’s lap. He chokes out a moan, fisting at Mingi’s shirt until his knuckles turn white. Tears fills the corners of his eyes, and he goes again, lifting himself and falling back down, Mingi pulling out further with every thrust until only the tip is left inside, making Yunho feel an odd and unfamiliar emptiness. Mingi shifts his hold to Yunho’s hips as he drops, and the angle hits differently, sending a shock through Yunho’s body strong enough to leave his fingertips tingling.

And he lets Mingi’s name resonate between the living room walls, loud and clear. 

Mingi takes that as a sign to repeat the action, using Yunho’s hips as leverage to pin him in place, his pace growing faster as the thrusts get harder. The thick fabric of the trousers Mingi didn’t bother taking off now rubs against the back of Yunho’s thighs, the friction setting fire to his skin. Yunho lets him take control, not necessarily by choice, but rather because every slap of skin means another wave of immense pleasure racing through his nerves until he can’t remember his own name. The sounds he lets out drives Mingi on, sets fire to his lower abdomen, and he knows he won’t last for very long when that knot in there keeps tightening. 

Yunho bucks his hips when Mingi wraps one hand around his neglected dick, the sudden stimulation almost painful. Indecisive about thrusting into Mingi’s hand or meeting Mingi’s hips he’s left squirming, so he captures Mingi’s lips in what is more like panting into each other’s mouths than a kiss. It’s messy, wet, but Yunho doesn’t mind, not when the hair sticks to Mingi’s forehead or when his teeth graze his lip.

Yunho comes, harder than he’s ever done before, entering whole new dimension of shapes and colours he couldn’t name even if he tried. The obscenely raw moan that is knocked out of him makes the hair on Mingi’s arms stand on end despite how hot he feels. He follows suit, burying himself deep into Yunho when he orgasms with an unintelligible yell. They both stay still, drained and heaving for air. 

“I love you,” Yunho nearly sobs, “I love you so goddamn much.” 

Yunho laces his fingers into Mingi’s hair and holds him close, Mingi angling his head to connect them at the mouth, a deep kiss conveying all of the emotions he can’t put into words now when his head is turned to mush. Mingi feels himself sink into the couch, his entire body prickling like he’s static. Yunho kisses him back, and he does it with so much sincerity Mingi might actually _have to_ love him forever, even though he’d already planned on it the day he proposed in the warmth of the spring sun. 

Yunho pulls away, only because he’s in need or air. Mingi notices the chair opposite them is empty, and he searches the room for any trace of their therapist, but even his coat has disappeared. 

“What’s wrong?” Yunho asks.

“Mr. Kang,” Mingi says, wincing a bit as he pulls out of Yunho “he left.”

Yunho falls off to the side, spent, and takes a quick sweep of the room as well. His eyes land on a white square on the floor. “What’s that?” 

Mingi follows the pointed finger, reaching to pick up the note. He reads it out to Yunho.

“Unfortunately, the time was running out for our little session.  
Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like I was needed for the end. A bath will heal sore muscles.

Good work today. See you next week in my office.  
Mr. Kang”

“Well,” Yunho takes a deep breath, “you better go fill that bathtub for us then, it’s gonna be a long night,” he grins, cheeks tinted slightly pink.

Mingi scoffs out a chuckle and collapses on top of his husband in a pile of limbs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> hit me up on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BazzysAO3?s=09)


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